Tired. In the face of closed doors and shuttered hearts.
Discouraged by disinterest. Low-grade resistance.
Some could care less about eternal realities.
It’s easy to feel like giving up.

Tired. In the face of closed doors and shuttered hearts.
Discouraged by disinterest. Low-grade resistance.
Some could care less about eternal realities.
It’s easy to feel like giving up.
Jesus knows roots.
Fig tree. On the road to Jerusalem. Cursed by Jesus for its fruitlessness. “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.”
Not even fig-bearing season, the disciples note. But they’re listening.
And we are too. Wondering. Pondering.
Exiles in Babylon.
God’s Word to them felt deeply personal to us. During a particularly violent and unsettling season.
People were leaving our city. Families sent back to their home countries. Anti-American sentiment had ramped up more than ever.
Should we leave?
At one point my dad—who never, ever tried to interfere or direct us in any way—wrote “In my daily Bible study I keep seeing the words, ‘Flee Babylon…flee Babylon.” (Jeremiah 49:30; 50:8,16; 51:6)